I'd Like For You and I to Go Romancing
by crinoids
Summary: Crowley wants to go on holiday, Aziraphale doesn't get a choice in the matter. Set in Victorian England.


[A/N: Brief foreword: This will be NC-17. This is written as part of a fic exchange with my friend. My prompts were: Crowley topping, holiday/away from normal London setting, bonus points if not modern day. Hope you like it, dearie!]

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><p>The book on the table was old. Very old, in fact. Yellowing pages and tattered spine bore the marks of an item well-loved and well-read. The carefully printed copperplate of the title shone dimly gold against maroon, in the light of the gas lamps. A book such as this should seldom be found lying on a table of a Soho bookshop, but this was no ordinary bookshop, and the owner of said bookshop was far from normal himself. There was also the fact that this book, along with the entire contents of the shop, would remain here in this steadily growing private collection, unsold, if Aziraphale had anything to do with it.<p>

Effortlessly manicured hands picked the book up, and placed it carefully in the last remaining slot on the shelf. Aziraphale crossed off the final item on a list on a rather long scrap of paper, and then gave the sigh of a man who has just done a very long job, very well. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, and made a noise of content at the shelves of books all placed in perfect order on neatly dusted shelves.

He removed his gold-rimmed spectacles and placed them into the breast pocket of his cream tartan waistcoat. They weren't actually necessary in aiding his sight, as a matter of fact that was almost perfect. Aziraphale felt that, as a bookshop owner, it was the proper thing to do to sport any manner of respectable eyewear. And he felt it helped him concentrate on jobs like this, but now he was just making up excuses.

Sauntering, he made his way over to the front entrance. The dense smog that was often found around London, especially before noon, caused untold problems for the clarity of his windows. He wiped at one of the small, square panes of glass and peered through the still-dirty window into the cobbled street outside. The street was relatively empty, but being a weekday, he assumed that most people would be out at work. The sound of hooves, followed by the sight of a horse-drawn carriage, came and past leisurely outside of his window. He sighed and walked back towards the counter, making a mental note to get those windows properly cleaned. It certainly did not give a good impression of a gentleman if he was unable to do something so simple as to clean his windows.

He made his way around the back of the counter and placed his slip of paper into the wastepaper bin, making it official that after a day's hard work he had finally got everything sorted to a point of perfection. Leaning across to the other side, he took his fountain pen and placed it carefully into the ink well, aligned his blotting paper and ensured everything was in order.

He pulled out his handkerchief as he noticed a spot of the smooth finish of the walnut counter. Just as he began to eradicate the small problem, he heard a bell give a small tinkle, indicating that he had a visitor.

Aziraphale prepared himself. He really had become rather good at deterring customers, and began to think of which tactic he should put into practise today.

"Hello there, angel," the voice from the door said.

Aziraphale smiled, with immediate recognition, "Ah, good morning, Crowley." He said, peering up at his old acquaintance.

The man at the door tipped his top hat, which was made of velvet so dark of a red it was easily mistaken for black, even in the best of lights. He gave a twirl, and held his arms out, very much in the manner of someone trying on an outfit in a clothes shop.

"New coat, is that?" Aziraphale asked, admiring the fine cut of the black tail coat which graced his outfit which included a grey shirt, black cravat and red silken waistcoat.

"Why yes, yes it is. And only the very best London has to offer," he said, making his way over to the counter, snake-head-topped cane clacking against the polished floor.

"Naturally," replied Aziraphale with a small smile. "Pray tell me, what brings you here this afternoon?"

"Ah yes, you had taken me right off topic. Now, I have come here with a proposition for you. You're going to say yes. Actually, you have to say yes – I'm not giving you a choice in the matter."

"As if I thought for a moment you would . . ." Aziraphale murmured. Crowley pretended not to notice.

"Ok, listen carefully now. You and I, yes us, are," he paused, for dramatic effect of course, "going on holiday!" He stopped to grin at Aziraphale, with the look of someone who was highly proud of the genius idea of which they had just though up.

Aziraphale didn't share the same feeling. "And why is that, exactly?" He said, slightly confused.

Crowley tutted in a way that expressed what a ridiculous question he had just been asked, making out the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "_Because,_" he said dramatically. "We have been stuck in London for a _long_ time. We need a chance to see something new! Get away from these damned pea-soupers (although I will take credit for that) and feel the fresh air. You can't deny that would be a nice prospect.

"Look, that railway has been opened since 1840, and has either of us ridden it yet? No! We have the chance to go anywhere and you're proposing you stay here in this musty old bookshop.

"There's so many places we could go and visit – Blackpool, Brighton, Western-Super-Mare, Southend – and swimming in the sea is supposed to be medicinal."

"Ok, you and I both know that isn't strictly true," Aziraphale protested.

"Well, that one was worth a try. But still, you can always go to Bath to get ailments cured. You can even get day trips straight from London. Come on! What do you say? It's a great idea, you know it."

"Right, so let me get this straight, you want us to get on a train, with a whole load of strangers – who knows what kind of rabble, what with increasing holiday times, train fares lowering and such, just to spend one day by the seaside."

"Not just a day – a weekend! And that's all part of the experience," Crowley replied, slightly on the defensive.

"A whole weekend?" Aziraphale asked incredulously. "What about the shop, if I'm away for a whole weekend?"

"Now you really are being silly. You know you won't be losing out on any customers in that time, and you don't even open for the majority of the weekend in a normal week! There is practically no loss on your part.

"Come on, there's absolutely no harm in you doing this, and you know it's going to be fun. And to be honest, you're not getting a choice here anyway." He said cheekily.

"Right, well, I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow morning." Crowley said, drumming his hands on the counter top.

"Tomorrow? But I'll have no time to pack anything. And I haven't even said I'll come yet."

"Yes, but I know you will. And you don't need much, it's only for one weekend, just pack whatever!" Crowley thought Aziraphale really was just being awkward now.

"Yes, but what time?"

"Oh I don't know, early."

"But-"

Crowley cut Aziraphale off. "See you then!" and swiftly walked out the door.

"But you haven't given me any of the details," Aziraphale said despairingly, not that anyone was there to listen.

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><p>[AN: Morning everyone!

Thanks for reading this, I hope you all enjoy it. I'm planning to make it approximately 4 chapters long but I'm crap at sticking to plans.  
>So I have only just read Good Omens and fell in love with it and pretty much jumped at the opportunity to write something for it hehe<p>

I actually did a bit of research into holidays and stuff in Victorian Britain, but am not an expert, so if I'm really far off I do apologise!  
>Oh and if you weren't aware, pea-soupers was a name for the smog apparently xD<p>

Also a warning, this is probably going to be ridiculously clichéd, but who really cares :P

Thanks for checking this out guys! And hopefully there won't be too long of a wait until the next chapter ^^]


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